Lingering
by Lyra the Bard
Summary: Maedhros reflects as he watches Maglor play with the twins, Elrond and Elros.


Title: Lingering

Rating: T

Warnings: Depressing things on Maedhros' part… Once more I must make these poor guys have lots of angst…

Summary: Maedhros reflects as he watches Maglor play with the twins, Elrond and Elros.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Silmarillion. It belongs to its respective owners and I am making zilch on this story. I do however own any original characters that I may insert into this story.

Authoress' Note: Just felt like making a Silmarillion story, however lately school has been getting in the way and having a major in English does not help in that I have to write plenty of papers for my classes. So sorry if it's been bit since I have last posted and all! Hope you all enjoy! And be warned…I was extremely tired when writing this so if it seems to OOC or odd…blame my tired and overworked brain for it. Or if it just doesn't see that good, but that's up to you the readers. As for Elros being younger than Elrond, only by a little bit since they are twins, was just my interpretation. Nowhere in the Tolkien writings does it state that one as older than the other or which one it was so I am taking a guess.

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Maedhros watched as Maglor played with the children, Elrond and Elros. He smiled despite the pain that it brought him as he rested his head across his arms, sitting a few feet away from the playing trio, his chin resting in the bend of his right elbow. He watched as Maglor lifted Elrond off of his feet, pretending to be a savage monster as the small elf let out a squeal of delight. His slightly younger brother, Elros, suddenly jumped out from a pile of leaves, intent on tackling Maglor by grappling with the older man's ankles, attempting to tip the scales in he and his brother's favor. Maedhros smiled, his lips stretching a bit as he watched them continue their mock battle. Yet it brought up painful memories the longer he thought about it. They weren't even the memories about being held prisoner in Morgoth's evil clutches, but farther back. Back to a time when he still had a father.

He looked on as Maglor rolled in the grass with the twins, Elrond and Elros, their faces seeming to glitter in the sunlight as he let his chin remain resting on his arm as images of his past began to flood, flickering across his consciousness like a bad malady and yet he welcomed it as visions of his mother, his brothers…his father…flooded his mind. He shut his eyes before opening them, squinting from the harsh sunlight as he watched the twins chase Maglor around a nearby tree, laughing without a care in the world. He wished that he could be like them, but he couldn't as images of his father, specifically of his father's hands, entered his mind. His father's hands, his touch, were what he remembered most about him. He could remember the rough calluses that were pocketed over his father's, Fëanor, fingers and palms. He could remember the feeling they gave him across his smooth skin as his father scooped him into a tight hug after he came back from working.

He could remember his father's embrace. It was tender, yet warm as the fire that he so cherished and worked with throughout the long days in his forge. Maedhros could clearly recall as he got older that his father would take him and his younger brother, Maglor, into the forge once they were old enough and began to teach them. He would also play with them when he had spare time outside of his work and duties, much like Maglor and the twins as his eyes refocused and sought them out. Another small and sad smile stretched across his face as he watched Elrond, who had escaped from Maglor's clutches, suddenly rush out behind a nearby tree, the same that Elros had used to ambush the older elf only minutes before. His gray eyes followed the small elf's movements and beheld with amusement and sadness as the young boy jumped, grappling with Malgor's arm who had a hold of his older brother. Maglor merely laughed out before grappling with both boys, his long dark hair only making it worse for Maedhros as it reminded him of their father, who possessed the same color. Maedhros had inherited his hair color from his mother, Nerdanel, and more specifically, her father, Mahtan.

His brother on the other hand, had their father's hair but their mother's face. Maglor possessed the face of Nerdanel in all ways except that it was obviously far more masculine than their mother's sharp and beautiful relief. He possessed Fëanor's long dark locks, locks that fell to just the middle of his shapely back as he rushed past, two smaller forms giggling and following his heels causing Maedhros to smile, his teeth shining in the summer's brilliant glow. His smile died soon after. Seeing Maglor rush after the twins reminded him of happier times when he and Maglor were chased by their father through the fields…to be caught by their father's hands.

Tears wanted to rush down his face as his memory lingered far too long on the feeling of rough calluses and warmth lingering behind on those palms. It made him think of the father they had both lost as his eyes trailed after Maglor's tumbling form as the twins attacked him, sending him sprawling into a patch of white and gold flowers, showering the three in brilliant colors. He could not contain his emotion any longer as tears began to flow past his defenses and try as he might; the flow had been released and would not abate as tears flowed down his cheeks. He could see Maglor smile as the twins laughed, cuddling near him, all three oblivious to his watching gaze as another flash of the memory of his father's hands and strong arms rushed through him like the writhing waters of a stream. He tore his gaze away from them, staring down at his remaining hand, his other having been torn away from his body long ago by his own cousin's blade.

It did little for him, as it only reminded him of what he had lost as he traced the fine lines of his palm with his eyes, noting the calluses that pocketed the nearly pale white surface. Salty drops continued to trace their way down his cheeks as the world seemed to come crumbling down upon him as laughter rent his ears. The sound continued, ringing in his ear drums before he brought his eyes back into focus, looking upon that remaining hand, reminding him so much of the father that he had lost. It looked just like his father's hand. And with that, came the memory of his father's embrace, those strong hands wrapping around him to keep him safe from the world. Safe from the darkness and despair that eventually engulfed him. The very same darkness that clung to him like a dreaded veil of black as more tears soon followed while soft petals of white and gold flowers hovered in the air. Maedhros wished that like the flowers, the wind would sweep away his despair along with them as laughter echoed throughout the woods.


End file.
